FicWad

"Michelle Smith and Pete Wentz, here to meet with William Beckett, Co-Manager of Generation Mod," Pete announced.

The small, mousy-haired secretary smiled and pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. "Right this way." We followed her down a hallway and stopped at a door with no window, just a plaque with "Mr. William Beckett, Co-Manager of Generation Mod," of course.

Pete snuck a look at me before we walked in, which I chose to ignore at the second due to nerves.

I twisted the door handle and we stepped in, Pete shutting it behind us.

Recap.

"What?!" I said, walking over to him as he sat at my fold-out card table. I sat next to him. "What did he say? Why are we in a load of shit?"

He released air. "He thinks we slept together, but I kept trying to tell him we hadn't..." He looked at me. "But he kind of figured we--or I, he mostly thought--wanted to."

"Oh. That's bad." I put my head in my hands and leaned on the table. "What else?" I knew that hadn't been it.

"Basically, he gave me this huge lecture on how I'm twenty one and supposed to be an adult, and how you're only seventeen, and how we--well, basically, he meant him but he said us--could get into jail." His eyes locked with mine. "Which means this is pretty bad."

My eyes started to tear up. "So what did he mean?"

"We can't be 'more than friends,' or 'friends with benefits," Pete said, using the air quotes when necessary. My breath froze in my mouth, my heart stopped beating for a split second, but then I regained semi consciousness enough to reply.

"So what do we do?"

Pete looked at me dead-on. "Do you want this?"

I bit my lip. Did I really want to risk William, and us, possibly, getting arrested? A tear slid down my face and Pete had rushed over to me, embracing me in a hug.

"Don't cry," he said, wiping my eyes with his black hoodie sleeve.

I smiled a little at him. "But what do we do? I don't want to get us all in trouble or a jail cell, but I want you." I didn't try to make it sound seductive, but evidently it did, since he pulled me into a liplock similar to the midnight one. We released each other and sat in silence.

The phone rang again.

"Damn phone," I said, picking it up. "Hello?"

"Michelle? I'm sorry to bother you again, but I need to see you and Pete in my office downtown at 3:00. I'll see you then." Click.

"Who was that?" Pete asked at my face.

"William. He wants to see us downtown at his office. Do you know where that is?"

Pete groaned. "Yeah. We better leave now."

We walked to the car in silence, which matched the half an hour drive.

Back to the present.

I looked around. A picture of William and all the slutty dancers, framed, hung on one wall. A glossy oak desk was placed in the center of his office. A small oval table that matched the desk was sitting in front of the desk. Two chairs that looked terribly overstuffed sat behind it. Pete and I sat down and faced William, who sat at his desk, phone pressed to his ear, eyes shut in frusteration.

"Fine, fine fine, I'll do it tonight," he argued. He paused. His eyes opened and saw us, then shut again, like he'd looked at us just to make sure we were there.

"Uh-huh. Okay. Yes, I'm sure. Okay. Adios." He hung up the phone and sighed loudly, leaning back in his chair and spinning around a few times. I almost laughed but decided not to.

He spun around to face us. He folded his hands on his desk and his eyes traveled from me and my tank top (which looked underdressed here, since William wore a blazer and a button-up), then over to Pete and his jeans with his black hoodie.

He sighed again and unfolded his hands, resting his head in his hands, eyes closed.

"You can guess why you're here."

Pete and I looked at each other, then mumbled "yes."

"Okay, so it's not entirely new to you." William opened his eyes and sighed. "I can tell you guys are kind of...close."

I could almost feel Pete tense up. Could one night relationships get you this upset? Evidently.

Neither of us said anything, which gave Will a reason to continue. "Good. I need to explain someting to you both.

"We could all be sharing a cell in the slammer if this doesn't straighten up. I know this might be one of those stuipid 'but he's my soulmate!' issues, but it's not. I don't think so, at least, seeing as how many girlfriends Pete has had in the past year."

I tensed up.

"But let's not mention that. Anyway. I admire that you guys are close after only one night, but I really need this to stop. Friends is okay, but you can't touch each other. Not even a pokefight either, Pete," he snapped, and Pete lowered his hand.

"I need you to do this for me," William said, his eyes pleading.

"Please."